


This Means War (Paint)

by ajremix



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajremix/pseuds/ajremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or The Time Jazz, Prowl and Springer Got Into A Prank War</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So way back in the day I wrote a huge collection of drabbles called [What's Wrong With a Little Destruction?](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3738895/1/What-s-Wrong-with-a-Little-Destruction) and there was a story arc on there that was fairly popular. Since they're pretty scattered in the collection- and because I also love it -I've decided to gather them all into a more accessible series.
> 
> Chapters are going to be put up essentially as is- barring minor edits for things like typos. Also keep in mind that this was written YEARS ago, before All Hail Megatron iirc, so major divergence in plot and characterizations imminent.

_"A teacher's purpose is not to create students in his own image, but to develop students who can create their own image."  
_ _-Unknown_

* * *

 

The two 'bots walked down the Hub in a fairly sedate pace though it was more in consideration of the much younger and larger mech than the one whose paint had faded to an almost ash-green.

"It's been a while."

"Yessir, it has."

"Enough of that 'sir' business, Roadbuster. I told you I had enough of that when you graduated from the academy."

Roadbuster's green visor glowed. "Yessir."

He got a scathing look in return. "Heard you had a pretty close call on Deneb IV." Kup nodded at the fresh flexiseal across the Wrecker's chest.

"Took heavy shrapnel, pierced my fuel injector." He grimaced under his facemask. "Had to get it replaced- nasty business."

"I don't doubt it." That planet didn't hold any pleasant memories for Kup as it was. "At least you're walking again."

"I lucked out. If I was moving any faster, if my armor wasn't as thick, if any of the others weren't there, if the docs didn't know how to do their job I'd be dead. I have no illusions about that."

They walked on in silence for a moment before Kup felt the need to ask, "Ratchet  _did_  let you out, right? I'm too old to be dodging laser scalpels and he's got a helluva arm."

That earned a rumbled laugh. "I convinced him, given the circumstances, to let me go provided I stayed off duty."

"And I played chaperone."

"And you played chaperone."

They both chuckled at that, nodding to what other Autobots passed by them with a greeting. "Speaking of which, how are the other lads, anyway? I'm hoping you've been doing better since that drift thing?"

"We still can't mention that around Twin Twist." Roadbuster admitted. "And we still stand by the official excuse that that incident was a fluke. But no, we've still been going around, kicking aft and taking names."

"Good. Roster hasn't changed around, has it?"

The larger mech shook his head. "Thankfully, no. Our team is real tight- it'll be bad business if it's got to be switched up." Because it would mean one of them was killed. "They'll all be ecstatic to see you, by the way."

"Bah." Kup waved a hand in faux irritation. "Don't know why you young 'bots are soft on an old mech like me. Not like I was your only instructor." He paused. "In fact- I only trained you and Springer. The rest of them I never even met until this Wreckers business got started."

"Well, you know Springer. Took all your training and advice and stories to spark. He'll go on and on about you at the slightest prompting."

Kup chuckled. "He's a fool and a half, that one. Really matured since the academy. Good lad."

"Indeed." They paused at the entry to the brig, waiting for their clearance to go through. "But still the same Springer."

"That he is." They stopped along the span of three occupied cells and Kup said sharply, "Alright you sorry lot of glitches! Your escorts are here to boot your afts back to respectability!"

Instead of any cringing or sheepish looks all the occupants got their feet with beaming faceplates, talking all at once. "Kup! Hey, what's a relic like you up to? You're  _still_  functioning?"

"Fragging trouble-making, turbo-brained fledglings." He said with a fond growl, deactivating the cells. Kup had been in this business for too long to get too attached to any particular mech or several- had his spark broken too often out lasting them –but it was difficult for him to not like the Wreckers. They were a reminder of his youth and they all had the time and experience to find that difficult balance between play and business. They were disciplined, intelligent, professional and they always found a way to make Kup laugh. He'd come to respect and like them enough to not mind bailing them out every now and again. "Always gotta cause chaos wherever you go, don't you?"

They shuffled into the main hall, not at all acting as if they were locked up for an entire shift. "Gotta keep on our game somehow!" Twin Twist said with a wide grin.

Sandstorm went up to Roadbuster and gave him a light punch in the arm. "Good to see you back on your feet, RB!"

"Better than on his back, that's for sure." Topspin beamed. Roadbuster gave a half snarl and a vague swipe in both their directions. Broadside had to duck to get out of the open cell and stopped by Kup.

"You going to join us for some energon? Maybe tells us a story or two?"

Kup shook his head. "Why you lot always want to hear the same stories time after time is beyond me."

"But we like 'em!" Scoop piped up.

"And we want to know what parts you change this time around!" Whirl added with a cycloptic grin.

"Get outta here, ya smart-aft scrap buckets!" He snapped at them without venom. The Wreckers snickered as they moved out into the main corridor. Kup turned to look at the straggler still in the entryway to the cell.

"Good seeing you again, old timer." Springer said fondly.

"I'd say the same if I didn't have to keep pulling your aft outta the fire." He tossed his head, indicating for the triplechanger to move. "When are you gonna stop slagging off Prowl?" Kup asked, as if he didn't ask every time they met.

And Springer answered as if he didn't say the same thing after each question. "When he stops being such a tight aft."

The older 'bot tried to keep his grizzled face on, but couldn't help chuckling. "You did get him pretty good this time, though."

"Blaster said he got a capture of it." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I could slip you a copy."

Kup laughed like he knew he shouldn't and slapped Springer's shoulder. "Good lads!"

Same old Springer indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually takes place before the previous chapter but I found it funnier this way

_"The life of the creative man is lead, directed and controlled by boredom. Avoiding boredom is one of our most important purposes."  
-Susan Sontag_

* * *

 

The problem with the Wreckers- as Prowl had predicted since their instatement –wasn't the fact that they couldn't take orders. No, they were very good with following orders- especially if it was given by someone they respected. The problem with the Wreckers was who it was they were lead by. Not because their leader was bad at what he did or was difficult for others to get along with- rather, Springer was well-liked by most all the Autobots, was easy-going, clever and ready to lead any charge no matter how dangerous. The problem was the fact that Springer was not particularly fond of Prowl- a sentiment that was returned. They respected each other's abilities, sure, but it was just a problem of their personalities being unable to mesh. In the academy and beyond they just couldn't find a way work together and what continued to boggle Prowl's battlecomputer was the fact that Springer purposefully went out of his way to do things to annoy the tactician.

Even when the black and white mech made it clear he merely wanted to deal with Springer and his group only when they had to set foot on whatever area he was in charge of, every time he ended up having to track the triplechanger down and have words on just what problems he was letting his Wreckers get into this time. An event that hadn't changed and Prowl regarded the larger 'bot with flat, unamused optics.

"They weren't causing trouble- they were training."

"Training."

"Yeah. You know, practicing to make sure they'd be capable of doing something in a real-life situation."

"And what part of this," he said in a measured, monotone way, "is training?"

"Sneaking. Sabotage. Stealth." Prowl didn't look at all convinced and Springer put his hands on his hip components, sighing at having to explain- in detail –yet another exercise. "It's really simple. Wreckers go around, picking targets and they receive points for each successful completion."

"You train by painting your fellow Autobots."

"It's a challenge."

Prowl look as convinced as ever- that is, not at all. "Is that so?"

"Oh yeah. Each 'bot is worth 10 points but some are worth more. Hound, for example, is worth an extra 10 because he'd be able to smell the paint if you're not careful. Mirage is also plus 10 because he's difficult to find outside of missions. Sunstreaker, Brawn and all the other hot-tempered ones are 10 each and an additional 10 if they don't beat the slag out of someone afterwards. Of course there's also other bonus points: how much paint is put on, how long it takes for them to notice, if it can be done without potential witnesses noticing- and sometimes we give out bonuses if the writing or drawing is particularly creative."

"Hmm."

Springer spread his hands in an unrepentant shrug. "Officers are a bonus, too. Extra five points added for each level of rank. Plus the additional hazard 10 for Ironhide, Ratchet or Wheeljack if it's done in his lab. And points are doubled if it's the first time that particular 'bot was tagged. Right now, on top of normal points, rank, difficulty and the fact no one's managed to tag him yet, Jazz has the highest score attached to him. Each Wrecker is given a specific color: Topspin blue, Twin Twist teal, Whirl purple, Sandstorm orange, Scoop yellow, Broadside red, I'm green and Roadbuster brown. He was stuck in medical this round, though, so he was keeping score."

"You've done this a lot then, I take it?"

"Like I said- it's training."

A curious thought crossed Prowl's cranial unit and he had to ask, "Does this include Prime?"

"Yup. Scoop already tagged him a long time back, though."

Prowl's optics grew icy. "Dare I ask?"

"Just said 'Better than Megatron'." Springer snickered slightly. "We gave him bonus points, though, because the highest Scoop can reach on Prime is just above his aft."

Prowl gave himself a mental shake- he was getting off track from this. "Training is fine but not when it disrupts the workings of the command."

"Who's disrupting?"

"I received nearly twenty complaints from this 'exercise' within the span of three cycles. That's a disruption."

Springer hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe we should instigate a negative points policy for getting caught…"

"What you  _should_  do is stop trying to pass off this juvenile joke as 'training' and do actual, practical  _work_."

"You're overreacting. Again. No one's hurt and no one's incapable of doing their duty. So they got a little paint on them- big fragging deal."

Prowl's doorwings twitched with growing irritation. "It  _is_  a big deal when it bothers those in my command enough to say something about it. It's against regulations and the washracks weren't built to have so many mechs in there at once. Every time you're here you're always causing some sort of disruption and it's highly irritating having to put a stop to my work to tell you to stop doing something you know better than to start in the first place."

"Maybe you should lighten up then."

"Maybe you should start acting your rank."

"Um, excuse me Prowl."

He glared at Springer for a moment longer before turning. "Yes, Hoist?" His doorwings gave an involuntary twitch.

The bulky green mech shifted a little uncomfortably. "I'm afraid the main pump in the enlisted washracks have finally broken down. Since we already have the part on order with our last supply request it's on the way, but those won't come in for almost half a deca-cycle." His optics flickered as Prowl's doorwing twitched again. "We can set up a temporary fix, but the shower heads are down completely."

Prowl could see a mutiny on the horizon. Cybertronians had an affinity for cleanliness (some bordering on obsessive) and he was already attempting to figure out the best way to set up rotations for the enlisted to use the officers' washracks without causing too much of a hitch for anyone. Prowl turned to glare at Springer again. Behind him, Hoist gave a little choke and cough. Springer looked far too amused, hands clasped behind his back in a lax parade rest, waiting to hear what Prowl had to say.

Prowl merely pressed his lips together, debated the best way to get this done and decided the faster the better. "Get your 'bots to the brig."

The just seemed to make Springer smile all the more. "Of course." He turned and swaggered off as proud as you please.

A long silence descended on the remaining two and Prowl finally asked, "He put something on my back, didn't he?"

Hoist coughed again. "Yes, Prowl."

"Prowl to Ironhide."

" _Ironhide- go ahead._ "

"When Springer brings the Wreckers to the brig, be sure to point him to a cell. I need to make a stop off at the officers' deck before I return to duty."

There was a pause as Ironhide processed this. " _He get ya too, huh?_ "

"Prowl out." The tactician made his way down the hall determined to act as natural as ever and ignored all the double takes and snickers as he went, 'tight aft' scrawled in bold characters across his roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 38, Colorful Wreckers


	3. Chapter 3

_"Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged."_  
 _-Samuel Johnson_   


* * *

He should've seen this coming- he really should've. But he didn't and now they were all paying the price for it and they came together, to him, in a silent demand to be lead to vengeance. Springer turned the situation over in his processor, trying to figure out the best course of action.

The only thing he could come up with was wondering if Prowl had put the saboteur up to this to get back at Springer for what happened last time. He wouldn't put it passed him. Slagging tight aft.

"Alright." When Springer looked at the assembled Wreckers it took more effort to ignore the bright and stylized splashes of pink paint than he could the cracked helms and leaks during battles. "Forget points, forget anyone else. The first one to tag Jazz wins. Period. You can work as a team if you want- you can fragging dog-pile the mech and pour paint all over him –I just want him tagged." Springer, like the rest of the team, had his fair share of bright pink practically glowing over his chassis. With a tight, business-like collective nod the Wreckers went off to find their target- vengeance promised all over their faceplates.

Instead of following the rest of the team through the Orbital Hub, Springer headed back to Xantium, unable to take the pain of such a vibrant color against his tamer tones. He should've known better. There was no way Jazz, swaggering up with that too-wide grin and knowing look, would ask to join in on something like the Wreckers' 'stealth training' without turning it into some sort of trouble. Especially since no one  _still_  had managed to tag the black and white yet.

…

" _Wreckers!_ " Springer's voice snapped harshly over their radios. " _I don't care how, I don't care why, I don't care what trouble you get into- I want Jazz's cranial unit brought to me on something_ sharp. Pointy.  _And preferably_  not sterilized! _That slagger siphoned all the liquids out of Xantium's washrack!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 52, Request: Jazz versus Wreckers


	4. Chapter 4

_"Which, if not victory, is yet revenge."  
-John Milton_

* * *

 

Springer stood in front of Prowl's desk, jaw set, shoulders rigid in a parade rest that just thrummed with ire. Prowl carefully hid his vast amount of amusement at the obvious impatience enhanced all the more with bright pink paint.

"You do realize this is a very serious incident, don't you?" He asked calmly, not getting- or expecting –a response. "Having eight mechs- all of fairly large stature –charging around haphazardly, yelling out threats to a ranked officer and generally causing all sorts of havoc is a big security issue." Prowl folded his immaculate white hands on his desk. "You're very lucky that not only has your team been called for a mission, but that no one has gotten hurt. This will be dealt with upon your return."

"Understood." Came the deep, angry rumble.

He couldn't help it, doorwing twitching in faint amusement and Prowl just had to add, "I don't know how you thought you'd be able to catch Jazz. Not even our top three trackers working together can catch him when he doesn't want to be."

That thousand mile stare turned into a glare as Springer's optics narrowed on to the tactician. "If that's all," he said tightly, "we're going to hit the washracks and get on our way."

"Of course." He waited until Springer was two steps from his door before he said, "You do realize that the officer's washracks are closed for maintenance, correct?"

The triplechanger rocked to a halt and slowly twisted to view Prowl with an unamused expression. "The enlisted washracks are fixed, aren't they?"

Prowl canted his head and said in a perfectly level and serious tone. "But you're an officer."

"…" Said Springer. "I am also covered in paint. And we don't have time to refill Xantium's washracks."

"Nevertheless, unless it is an emergency," he continued smoothly, "officers should not be using enlisted facilities. Protocol dictates-"

" _Don't_ -" Springer cut himself off, hands raised like he wanted to strangle something at that moment. "Don't," He said in a forcefully more level tone, "cite your slagging protocols at me right now."

Raising an optic ridge, Prowl complied, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. Springer glared right back before turning around. "Fine. Whatever."

"And Springer," he just had to add, "be sure to deal with those paint splotches before your return or I'll have to add being out of regulation appearance to your list of offenses."

Tight, strangled noises came out of Springer's vocalizer as he stood, shoulders high, head down, trying to keep himself from whirling around and launching himself at Prowl. Finally he half-turned and sneered darkly at the other mech. "I hate you so much right now." He stalked off swiftly before his self control snapped.

The door slid shut and Prowl waited until the sound of heavy stomps faded before he braced his chevron against a hand finally allowed himself to  _laugh_.

Oh, he owed Jazz big.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 53, Request: Prowl versus Springer


	5. Chapter 5

_"I fear the Greeks, even bearing gifts."  
-Virgil, The Aeneid_

* * *

 

Just another long day for the Wreckers, a job not as well done as they would've liked and they were all looking forward to some downtime to nurse their wounds. Coming up on their approach to the Orbital Hub, however, they received a communication.

"Hey, hey- it's the bad 'bots comin' home from the front!" Blaster's grinning face came up on the forward view. Despite their less than stellar attitudes, Blaster's friendly visage brought soft, echoing smiles to the crew on the bridge.

"Blaster, what's the word?" Springer asked, slouched further in his seat than the communications officer had ever seen him.

"Not all that much going on." The red mech admitted. "But ya did get a message from a detachment."

An optic ridge raised. "Trouble?"

"Naw. From Jazz."

That caused whatever salvaged good mood die. "Jazz." He repeated flatly.

"Don't tell me you're still upset at the mech. That was stellar cycles ago!"

"And he skipped out before we could get revenge." Springer wagged a finger at the screen. "Not cool."

"It was a mission, what could he do?"

"When it comes to Jazz, there's no such thing as coincidence. Especially when Prowl is involved."

Blaster shook his head. "Sure, Springer. They're both out to get you guys, whatever you say. Anyway, he wanted me to give this message to ya so you gonna hear it or what?"

The Wreckers were silent for a moment, exchanging looks. Finally Springer nodded. "What is it?"

"Some music samples from the place he's planet-sitting. I'll send over the language packet so you can understand it. Jazz was adamant that you'd love these." Xantium's computer monitor flashed with an upload of language. Jazz was nothing if not thorough with his research in cultures, in addition to grammar and dictionary an entire database of slang and cross-reference of usage was compiled and it took nearly a klik for the Wreckers to download it all to their processors. Blaster's grin grew even wider in anticipation. "Ready?"

A grin like that was something to be wary about but they readied themselves for whatever it was Jazz had prepared for them. "Bring it on."

Blaster reached off screen and flicked at the controls and suddenly music started thrumming through the bridge. " _And everything I made is trite/and cheap/and a waste/of paint/of tape/of time._ "

"…"

By the time they were able to properly process the words the next sample had come up. " _Paint/me right/can you feel the heat in me tonight?/Oh I'm the pearl/paint your love all over my world._ "

This time a slow, burning anger was crawling obviously over faceplates. " _I wanna see it painted, painted black/Black as night, black as coal/I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky/I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black._ "

The atmosphere in Xantium was  _vibrating_  by now. " _Paint her name on a one-way street/Painted cheeks with angry heat/Wounded pride on painted eyes/Paint the night with battlecries._ "

"Cut that slag off." Springer said sharply.

" _Cause I've been in lots of these/Bad, bad situations/Paint nothing now/Paint nothing-_ "

The triplechanger looked up, glaring bloody death at Blaster. "You are looking far too smug to be a simple messenger, Blaster."

He held up his hands with a not-guilty-but-sure-as-hell-not-innocent smile. "So I had a little listen-to before I contacted you guys. You know me."

Icy optics narrowed at him in consideration. "You let Jazz know next time you talk to him that we haven't forgotten that… 'incident'. And there's no slagging way he's going to get away with it forever so he best enjoy himself while he can."

Blaster was twittering quietly, definitely enjoying being the bystander far too much. "Will do. Say, you want me to send over Jazz's transmi-"

" _No_." And with that the Wreckers cut off the transmission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 62, Request: Blaster and Wreckers
> 
> Bright Eyes – Waste of Paint  
> Roxette – Paint  
> Rolling Stones – Paint it Black  
> Rush – War Paint  
> Idlewild – Paint Nothing


	6. Chapter 6

_"How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours."  
-Wayne Dyer_

* * *

 

Hot Rod's excited whoop was equally measured by the fairly unhappy line of Prowl's lips. "The Wreckers." He said flatly. "Here."

The red and yellow mech shrugged with a large grin. "Hey- Megatron calls in his big gun, we call in ours."

In a rare display of emotion, Prowl's lips turned down even further and his doorwings twitched. Which was virtually unnoticed by the crew of Ark-19 as they were all talking excitedly about the new arrivals. It was not, however, missed by Jazz but a question raised by one of the two humans kept him from pressing.

"Who are these Wreckers?"

Jazz looked to Prowl who turned away as if he hadn't heard the question. The saboteur wondered if he realized how childish he tended to act when it came to the Wreckers. Not that Jazz really minded- he found the entire antagonistic relationship between him and Springer hilarious. "They're one of our strike forces." Jazz told the humans. "Pretty much think of 'em as our equivalent of your Special Forces."

Jimmy lifted an eyebrow. "Which one? We've got several Special Forces."

"All of 'em." The mech said with a little shrug. "Green Berets, Rangers, SEALs, Force Recon- they do all of that and then some."

His audience crossed their arms with thoughtful looks on their faces. "So… like Ghost Recon types, right?" Verity asked.

There was a short pause and Jazz had to go through the network to dig up just what this 'Ghost Recon' was. "Yeah, you could put it like that. You wanna know more about them you should ask 'Jack or Bee- Hot Rod, too. He's good buddies with Springer. Not Ratchet, though. He'll probably blow a gasket going on about the kinda damage he's had to fix on them." There was a snort from off to the side and Jazz turned his attention to Prowl again. "Bet they're not happy with what's going on about Sunstreaker."

That mention made Verity and Jimmy frown themselves. "Oh?"

"Him and his brother worked with the Wreckers on some missions. They're pretty friendly with each other so I won't be surprised if they try going behind our backs searching for him." An unpleasant rumble came from Prowls engine, regaining Jazz's attention. "And you know they won't let us get away unscathed from last time, right?"

"I am aware of that."

Verity crossed her arms. "Get away with what?"

Jazz looked at her with a secretive smile. "Stealth training."

The two humans didn't comprehend. "Stealth training?"

"You just had to egg them on with that sampler of yours, didn't you?" Prowl asked with an actual hint of bitterness. Jazz spread his hands with a 'who knew' look.

"Aw, you know they don't let a grudge go anyway. Besides- it was fun!"

"And now they're going to be looking to get back at a slight  _and_  an insult." His doorwings listed slightly. "And I'll get caught up in it because they think we're accomplices."

Jazz leaned over and nudged Prowl with an elbow. "C'mon- I know you laughed. Blaster captured that whole exchange."

The memory of it made Prowl's lips twitch upward and his doors hitch, but he quickly smothered it out. "Still. This is not trouble we need to deal with at the moment."

Rather used to being ignored by giant alien robots by now, Jimmy said a little loudly to regain their attention, "They're a bunch of troublemakers, then? Military thugs or something?"

"No, no." Jazz said quickly. "They're all great mechs- you'll be hard pressed to get a better group watching your back. It's just well, their leader and Prowl got some… 'contention' built between 'em."

"I can't imagine why." Verity muttered lowly.

Jimmy ignored the comment and asked, "What happened?"

"Well, they were academy buddies for one thing."

"No, actually, we were not." Came the droll reply from the other black and white. "That would imply that we had, at one point, a congenial relationship."

"So?" Jimmy pressed. "What happened?"

For the first time in the conversation Prowl looked over to the humans, his optics flat and mouth pressed in a thin line. "…" He said in displeasure. "We were in the academy together."

The two turned to Jazz, hoping for some kind of clarification. He shrugged back. "Separate ends of the spectrum, really. You'll get it when they get here." Jazz chuckled and leaned in conspiratorially. "No one gets under Prowl's chassis the way Springer can."

"Jazz," Prowl's tone had a rather cold edge to it, "go down and ensure Wheeljack is aware he's set to go on duty soon. You know how he gets when he's tinkering in his lab."

He let off a sharp salute and a low chuckle. "Yessir!"

As Jazz left, Verity leaned over to Jimmy and said, "Well, anyone that bugs Prowl can't be all bad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 63, Request: Jazz, Prowl versus Wreckers


	7. Chapter 7

_"Sarcasm is irritating and unsettling and should be used frequently."  
-Phil Simborg_

* * *

 

It was quiet. Generally not necessarily a bad thing but as the Wreckers- all but two that is –were there it was not only an oddity but it was also a bad sign for two particular mechs aboard Ark-19. Jazz had already taken to disappearing as often as he could. Prowl had neither the leisure nor the capabilities to do the same and tended to find himself with two or more Wreckers around more often than not. Except that they rarely spoke to him, barely even acknowledge him and that made Prowl very… edgy.

He knew they were planning something to get back at both him and Jazz. He knew they wouldn't let any prank go unanswered. He knew they wouldn't leave until the score had been evened. He also knew planning Wreckers ultimately lead to very dangerous, very effective Wreckers. And to make it worse, Springer knew Prowl was waiting for the retaliation and was getting more paranoid with each passing day nothing happened. And Springer knew Prowl knew that he knew that and would always flash a smug grin his way every chance he got.

Fine. If that's the way it had to be, Prowl could deal with it. He knew the Wreckers were professional enough to not let pranks interfere with business. So let them bide their time. Prowl could handle whatever they decided to pull when it happens. He could take things in stride, he could adapt when he was given no other option, he could handle anything they threw at him with the dignity and bearing that always left Springer simmering at the lack of reaction.

Prowl entered the common area having been kicked out of his office by Optimus Prime. He feared this would happen, with Prime on Earth Prowl knew he'd take it upon himself to shoulder more responsibility than he really should (conversely, Optimus Prime thought Prowl put too much work upon himself and was trying to elevate the load). His battlecomputer had already scanned ahead, noting each presence, position and action in the room before he had even entered and was fully aware of all six planetside Wreckers taking up a table in the corner. He ignored them, planning on getting some work done on a couple datapads he'd managed to smuggle before being forcibly ejected from work by his leader.

No sooner had he sat down than Springer was on his feet and making a beeline for him. Prowl suppressed a grimace and irrationally hoped if he didn't notice him the triplechanger would go away. It didn't work.

"That was pretty slick of you." Springer drawled dryly, pulling out a chair and making himself comfortable. "Sending us on a half-aft mission and then running off on one yourselves while we were gone."

Prowl didn't look up from his datapad. "I apologize, I didn't realize you were looking forward to your punishment. You did take care of the paint, I trust?"

"Absolutely. Made myself black and white, actually. Felt if I had to be in regs I might as well emulate someone who never strays from them. Even put on a double-layer of wax and everything."

"How very studious of you. Flattery, however, would not have lessened your punishment."

Springer leaned in. " I was referring to Jazz's scheme. After all, he must not have done anything wrong- he wasn't punished, was he?"

There wasn't the slightest of hiccups in Prowl's actions. "There was no proof to link Jazz to the crime. You know I can't reprimand anyone without concrete proof."

"I got proof." Springer snarled. "I got lots of proof."

"Hm. Pity you didn't leave it with me before you left. I would've dealt with it."

"To use the human vernacular- bullshit."

"I fail to see what bovine excrement has to do with this." Prowl cross-referenced data on two different pads without missing a beat.

Springer's mouth pulled into a long, tight smile. "Or it could be that you couldn't punish him as his actions were at the request of a superior officer."

"Were that the case and there was proof of it I can assure you that officer would be held accountable."

"And who holds the officers on top accountable?"

Prowl stopped and he turned. "Springer," he said slowly, "am I correct in assuming you are alluding to me?"

"I have no idea where you came up with that conclusion, but now that it's been brought up- yes. Who  _does_  determine your punishment?"

"Whatever imaginary slight you believe you have suffered at my doing, this conversation is ample punishment enough."

"Oh?" Springer leaned in even closer, delighted that Prowl moved back before he could stop himself. "What would that make my presence, then?"

"An annoyance. I do have work that needs to be done, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all, go right ahead."

Prowl didn't move a cable, just sat and glared flatly. "Springer." He said, voice low. "Go away."

A grin was his only answer, but the triplechanger did move back. "Don't worry about a thing, Prowl." He rumbled in delight and dark pleasure. "We won't be going anywhere."

He got up from the table and moved across the room. Prowl looked over to the corner to the other five Wreckers and they all gave him very large, very feral grins. Prowl held back an involuntary shudder and irrationally hoped they wouldn't be needed for much longer.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 64, Request: Jazz, Prowl versus Wreckers II


	8. Chapter 8

_"It is sort of weird. In some ways, it feels like we've come full circle."  
-Andrew Booth_

* * *

 

Ark-19 was small. That did not bode well when one didn't want to be found- especially by a group of others. Prowl, as his position dictated he be readily available for whatever reason, had come to accept he wouldn't be able to get out of the Wreckers' collective crosshairs. Jazz, whose myriad of hidey-holes had been mostly compromised in fairly short order generally by the ingenious use of unwitting humans, was still doing his best to be not where he could be easily found. It wasn't going as well as it usually should and Jazz had to be impressed with the mettle displayed in keep the saboteur accounted for.

There was almost always a Wrecker around anywhere the two of them went. They managed to weasel their way into being the ones sent to fetch either Prowl or Jazz under Prime's orders or for simple tasks. Some of them- just because they could –would often times stand right behind one of the black and white mechs, well within any sort of personal boundaries. But mostly the Wreckers did absolutely nothing. They stood and they stared and they made no word or movement towards either 'bots unless they had to.

It was very, very nerve-wracking.

"They'll have to make their move soon." Prowl said, mainly for his own benefit but Jazz still nodded at his side. "They won't be certain how long they'll be here and it won't be long until they'll be off after Sixshot. Once they focus completely on him, they won't have time to deal with us."

Verity and Jimmy- who finally realized they were being used to rat out Jazz –were sitting on the visored mech's shoulders. "Maybe they're just trying to psyche you out." Jimmy said. "Wait until you work yourself into a frenzy and beg for them to just get it over with and say 'What are you talking about? We weren't going to do anything.' Happens all the time."

Verity rolled her eyes. "On TV, maybe. That doesn't actually work in real life."

"Have you tried it?"

"Please."

"Even if it did," Jazz told them, "it wouldn't pacify the Wreckers. They're all about the spectacle and the challenge. Something like psychological warfare wouldn't satisfy them."

"Especially considering what it is they're getting revenge for." The two stopped at the doorway of a cargo bay and Prowl turned to pluck both humans from his compatriot's shoulders. It annoyed him whenever Jazz let them do that- it wasn't safe and it wasn't practical. With the sort of detached care only Prowl was capable of he set them down. They already knew the drill- any place with lots of equipment was off limits to them and Prowl didn't feel the need to remind them of the rule.

The doors whisked open and they moved inside to-

_GOOOOSH!_

The two mechs stood stock-still, trying to comprehend just when the world suddenly became yellow. Very yellow. Sunstreaker yellow, to be exact. They looked down at themselves, doused in that same bright color, the metallic flakes suspended within glinting brightly in the overhead light. The walls fairly vibrated with laughter.

"HAHAHAHA! We got you fraggers! We finally  _finally_  got you!" The Wreckers were on one of the catwalks, chortling and high-fiving each other as Prowl and Jazz looked up, completely stunned from a puddle of what was once formally known as Sunstreaker's extra body paint.

"How," Jazz actually stuttered, "are you not coming up on our proximity scans?"

They grinned broadly. "Swiped the plans for Mirage's scrambler and tinkered around with it. But we FINALLY got you! After all this time you've finally been-"

"What the slag is going on here!?"

Just outside the doorway and splashed paint, Ratchet looked at the mess in a rather horrified fashion. And then someone else said, "Ugh, this stuff is  _disgusting_!"

All optics went downward to where Verity and Jimmy had caught the tail end of the paintbomb, their entire fronts splattered yellow. There was a sharp click of Ratchet's mandible clenching tight in preparations of a very frightening, very explosive blowout. He looked up at Jazz and Prowl with barely contained rage. They moved back to allow him clear view of the suddenly deathly silent Wreckers.

"You…" Ratchet couldn't even speak, just brought his hands up like he could strangle them through pantomime. The two humans exchanged bewildered and frightened looks at the normally not homicidal Ratchet's sudden change in disposition.

"Wheeljack," Prowl said to his comm in that infuriatingly calm way he had even in the worst of situations, "if you would check the manufacturer's label of Sunstreaker's preferred body paint to see if there are warnings of permanent discoloration to humans." Jazz had to bite back a snicker as color drained out of the Wreckers' optics. "As well as toxicity warnings."

They could practically  _hear_  something inside Ratchet snap. "Oh slag- run!  _RUN_!"

"GET BACK HERE YOU GLITCH BRAINED SORRY EXCUSES FOR SMELTING SLAG SUCKERS! I'LL TEAR OUT YOUR MANIFOLDS AND BEAT YOU WITH THEM UNTIL THERE'S NOT ONE SYNAPSE FIRING IN YOUR MICRO-CHIP SIZED PROCESSORS!"

Verity yelped as Ratchet charged after the rapidly retreating strike force, slipping in the paint and knocking both her and Jimmy off their feet.

"Hey, hey." Jazz said with a big yellow grin, picking them carefully up by soggy shirts. "Don't go knocking yourselves over too much! We don't want you damaged on top of colored."

"Indeed." Prowl opened another comm channel. "Hardhead, alert Xantium's crew that we'll be doing maintenance on our orbital relays. They may receive waves from us, but they're for testing purposes only and they needn't answer unless they are followed by a proper emergency code. Also remind them that orbital bounces will be impossible for the next… six cycles until maintenance is complete."

There was a pause on the other end of Hardhead processing the order, not understanding the sudden maintenance but deciding- hey, an order's an order. " _Sure thing, Prowl._ "

Jazz looked at the tactician with an incredibly large grin (and coming from Jazz, that's pretty damn huge). "You are one evil, vindictive mech, ya know that?"

Prowl returned the look as neutral as ever. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 65, Request: Jazz, Prowl versus Wreckers III


	9. Chapter 9

_"Any commander who fails to exceed his authority is not of much use to his subordinates."  
-Arleigh Burke_

* * *

 

Optimus Prime sat at his desk with four of his officers before him. Ratchet stood on one end, still seething but far more calm and coherent than he'd been for the last cycle, Springer was on the other side, the fin on his helmet now crooked to one side and between them, still that blinding yellow color, were Prowl and Jazz. The Autobot leader resisted the urge to put his head in his hands and go 'ARGH'. Just barely. Instead he sat and gave them a flat look, trying to decide where to start. The four stood there at prefect parade rest.

Eventually he said, "Ratchet- I know you've been placed in charge of the human children and your devotion to their wellbeing is admirable. However I would greatly appreciate your not damaging my strike force until they've at least dealt with Sixshot."

Ratchet's mouth pressed into a taunt, thin line. "Yessir."

"You are dismissed to help the children get themselves cleaned. You will also repair any damage done to the Wreckers without a word of complaint or threat. Understood?"

For a moment it looked as if Ratchet would say something, but he bit the comment back and instead snapped to attention. "Yessir!" He swiveled on a heel and marched stiffly out of the office. One down, three to go.

"It seems to me," Optimus Prime said slowly, "that all of this stemmed from the Wreckers' stealth training. Therefore any unauthorized training that includes paint of any kind is hereby banned from application and the only Autobots to be included in training must give their consent and be aware that it is taking place."

"Yessir." Springer said, gaze not wavering from that thousand mile stare.

"This goes for you, too, Jazz."

"Yessir."

"And Prowl, please refrain from edging Ratchet into a frenzy from now on."

"Yessir."

Optimus Prime sat back in his seat. "I'm highly disappointed in all of you. This is hardly the time to indulge in some fledgling pranks." The three officers made no move. "This little war between you ends now. Is that understood?"

"Yessir." They said together.

"Springer, your Wreckers will clean up the mess that resulted from this prank. Including helping Jazz and Prowl clean the paint off themselves." To his credit Springer didn't so much as twitch. Optimus did, however, catch the minute flare of Prowl's doorwings going back. "As much as you trust their ability to follow through on their missions, you should be able to trust them to not exacerbate things off-duty."

"Yessir." Prowl said blandly. Jazz's mouth twitched up slightly.

"Do not repeat this incident. Dismissed."

As one, the three officers snapped to attention, did an about-face and walked out. Optimus Prime didn't doubt that someone between them would make a comment and somehow end up starting an argument. Sometimes it baffled him the kind of extremes his officers had.

He waited and he listened carefully. He didn't hear any talking and finally allowed himself to relax. He turned on a comm link. "Nightbeat."

" _Yes, Prime?_ "

"Patch the surveillance camera from the lower decks to my monitor."

" _Sure thing. Keeping a little something for prosperity?_ "

Optimus Prime smiled quietly to himself. "Something like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally chapter 96, Request: Optimus Prime and Wreckers II

**Author's Note:**

> Originally chapter 37, Request: Kup and Wreckers


End file.
